Corpus Davey

This is an ancient City of London “order” shrouded in mystery, but believed to have originated in the days of William the Conqueror when he visited an Anglo-Saxon tailor near what is now a pub in order to get a surgical truss fitted. It’s thought that he gave himself a hernia when single-handedly putting together a flat-pack castle in Salisbury, England. What with all the bow pulling, shouting at the English and typically exotic French sexual antics that most of us only dream about, things went from bad to worse and he ended up with a double strangulated hernia and severe constipation.

Ancient medical tomes on the method of cure can’t be reproduced here - they’ll make your eyes water – but it involves copious quantities of mead as a means of lubrication, a very heavy lady of an enthusiastic disposition, a short length of broomstick and a very supple wrist. If the process is successful however, it’s said to leave the patient (after some weeks have passed) with peculiar and long-lasting feelings of relief linked with visions. Anyway, if the patient survived – which was only slightly less of a feat then as it is now – the affected area had to be firmly encased to restrict movement, reduce leakage (of something not defined), and also to serve as a reminder to the patient not to do whatever it was that got them in the mess in the first place.

The tailor was a chap called DeViet (pr “dayveeay) who had cunningly adopted a French name in order to blend in with a growing clientele who were demanding bespoke trusses, cod pieces and incontinence undergarments for the French aristocracy. (There weren’t many Italian designers around in those days and he felt that if he spoke loudly in Anglo-Saxon with a Parisian accent, wore perfume and pointy slippers he’d glide into wealth beyond his wildest imaginings.) It’s thought that before becoming a tailor he was a cooper and part-time water bailiff, a combination of skills that were to benefit him no end because it enabled him to make use of metal hoops and hinges and to line his netherwear with mink, water rat and, of course, bits of otter. It was the tail of the otter, or a reduced version of it, that was used for male containment.

Use of beaver was introduced much later as a luxury design following the British democratisation of the Americas (which in our opinion should never have been relinquished – we wouldn’t have been landed with Dubya for a start). Clearly, the beaver becomes crucial in our ORDER’s folklore from about 1680 onwards but in ways that can’t be disclosed just yet. However, the DeViet family grew in prosperity and influence, largely through blackmail and extortion (clients who didn’t pay in full and on time had their trusses laced with pubic crabs and itching powder) and they established chains of restaurants, ale houses, pie shops, discreet brothels and even more discreet banks and pension funds.

At about the time when King Henry 8th was getting a bit cross with Rome the family name changed to Davey, principally it’s believed to avoid swingeing taxation, a practice of corporate leger-de-main that exists to this day. The financial dealings of the Davey empire reached into every dark corner of every dark market, including the desires of extremely wealthy leaders of countries, states, and states within states. So clever and secretive were they that most of their senior members only communicated in a code that remains only partially broken now. (The DeViety Code q.v.)

They dealt, and continue to deal, exclusively in the worlds’ most precious objects and commodities, including gold, diamonds, oil and, the rarest of rare, happy Country and Western music. They’re also involved in the acquisition, preservation and selling of religious artefacts – some would argue a natural progression from the barbed-wire lined trusses of yesteryear and not normally available on e-Bay. It’s rumoured, but cannot be confirmed, that members of the society (named CORPUS DAVEY by a senior but secret religious leader in the 16th century) eat exotic, or at least unusual, animals.